flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

March 13, 2007

Whatcha Doin’ Saturday Night?

Anyone want to come hear me sing?

I’ve been in a church choir for a while, but this year, they asked me to sing in this show they put on. I feel like I’m in high school again. I haven’t done this kind of schtick in years. Me, singing Karen Carpenter tunes. My brother John would be laughing his butt off.

When I was a kid, my mom used to have my sister and I go sing for her lodge and the “sunrise living” kind of places. We did the whole hum-and-strum guitar thing. Silly songs, Christian songs, whatever was easy. One time, we were singing while they were serving dinner at the nursing home. I was singing “The Rose” which my mother has always liked. When I was in the middle of the song, I heard the following:

Old Man 1: Pass the butter.
Old Man 2: What?
OM1: Pass the butter. (louder)
OM2: What?
OM1: (shouting now) Pass The Butter.
OM2: (also shouting) I Can’t Hear You. That Girl’s Singing Too Loud.

Needless to say, I haven’t done “dinner and a show” since. Saturday ought to be interesting.

(On a side note, Ron, if you’re reading this, Moth adores the hokey bird. Whose name is Mr. Chris Hokey Bird. It has almost replaced Daiwok the dog… but not quite.)




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